Little Boy Lost
by bammi1
Summary: This is the 2nd part to The Way It Was, with Bobby now seven and his mother diagnosed with Schizophrenia.
1. Chapter 1

Little Boy Lost The Continuation of The Way It Was

Chapter 1

It had been six months now since Frances had been diagnosed with Schizophrenia, and there were a few changes in the Goren household. While the disease had appeared to come on slowly, it had now accelerated to full-blown status, making the already turbulent Goren home more chaotic than ever. Frances still refused to take her pills; she just could not accept the fact that she could have this mental illness. Her vanity would not allow her to acknowledge it. That same vanity had always made her neglectful of her children, thinking more of herself and her looks than them, but now it was more than that. The boys, Frankie and Bobby, were practically raising themselves; and although both were used to being on their own quite a lot, it was still difficult for them, being only ten and seven years old.

Things in the Goren family were always in turmoil, what with both Frank and Frances running around on each other, and Frank's gambling and drinking. And now they had this new hardship. Frankie had been aware and ashamed of his mother's illness for some time now; but for Bobby it was still confusing. He didn't understand why his mother acted the way she did, not like all the other moms in the neighborhood. Like Frankie, he was embarrassed and ashamed, too, but mostly afraid. His fear was justified, though; this illness brought out a strange and abusive side to her personality. It was a horrible feeling for Bobby to be afraid of his own mother.

It was also hard on the boys being the ones all the other kids made fun of. Sometimes the kids would gang up on Bobby, calling his mother names, calling him names, shoving him; generally making him miserable. It did no good to retaliate, although he did. That usually made things worse, and often he'd find himself in trouble with the teachers for fighting. The other thing was, Bobby felt a terrible guilt for his own feelings, and tried to make up for it. He felt bad for his mother, who really couldn't help the way she was, and he really tried to be protective and understand. But it was difficult at times to be understanding, when you're seven years old and your mother is punishing you for being "evil." But he tried, he really tried.

As if that wasn't enough, Frank's gambling was getting more and more out of control. He spent more time at the track than he did at home. Losing did not stop him; it was the one time out of ten when he would win that kept him coming back. That meant the most of the time money was scarce, and tempers would flare.

One thing that hadn't changed was Frank's complete and utter detachment from Bobby. The only time Frank ever showed Bobby any attention it was usually the wrong kind. But even that was sporadic, and usually only when Frank was drunk and mad about something. Frank didn't seem to care one way or another what Bobby did.

It was different with Frankie. Frankie had to toe the line; if he didn't, there would be consequences.

On this particular day, an extremely hot Indian summer day, Frankie walked home from school with some friends, while Bobby tagged along behind, getting on the bigger boys nerves as only a little brother can.

"Come on, Frankie, let's dump your little brother," Jason sneered, looking at Bobby. Bobby just made a face back.

But Frankie wasn't interested, not this time. He was worried. "God," he said, as if he'd never heard Jason, "My dad is gonna kill me…"

Bobby perked up, and ran to catch up with Frankie. "Why, Frankie? Why's Dad gonna kill you?"

"Just because," Frankie said, then ignored him and his pestering.

By the time they reached the Goren home most of the kids had dropped off. Frankie stood outside for a minute, then said, "Go check and see if Dad's home."

"Okay," Bobby said, running into the house, letting the door slam behind him.

"Slam that door again and I'm gonna slam your head into it! You got that?!" Frank was in a foul mood; there was no air conditioning; and the heat was stifling. Lying on the couch, in a sleeveless undershirt, the sweat just glistened on his body. He was watching tv, his usual beer in hand. He ran the beer can over his face and neck, trying to cool off. It was impossible, there was no relief.

Bobby just nodded; he understood. He went back outside to where Frankie waited. "He's home," he pouted.

"What's the matter with you?" Frankie scowled. "_I'm_ the one in trouble." Then, as an afterthought, he asked, "Is he drinking beer?"

"Uh huh."

"Crap!" Frankie stood there undecided for a bit. "Well, guess we better go in." He pushed Bobby in front of himself. "Come on."

The two boys went up the steps and into the house. "Get outta the way!" Frank bellowed, as the boys walked in front of the tv. He made a move like he was going for them; they both quickly moved, running off to their room. In a way, Frankie was glad; he had escaped showing his father his report card. He usually did extremely well in school, but somehow he had messed up. Now, at least temporarily, he wouldn't have to face his father, who expected great things from him.

Hearing Frank yelling, Frances came out of the kitchen where she was preparing the dinner. She was just barely holding it together today. She hated the side effects of the pills so she rarely took them. She never thought she needed them anyway. She just kind of stared into the room, and not seeing anyone but Frank she returned to the kitchen where she got preoccupied with things other than dinner.

After a while, Frank went to the kitchen, wondering where dinner was. But it was like a child had tried to prepare supper. It was a total mess; Frances looked confused and didn't know what to do.

Looking around, Frank started to pick some things up, and suddenly threw as much as he could at the wall, screaming at her. She began screaming back at him. The boys heard all the shouting; from around the corner, they managed to see everything that was going on. They always saw and heard everything that went on.

Frank saw them and muttered, "I'm getting out of here! I'll get _my _dinner at Sal's. You're all on your own tonight. And this place better be spotless!" And he was gone.

Frankie narrowed his eyes. "That's Dad, always bailing on us."

"He's probably just hungry," Bobby said. Despite Frank's total disregard for him, Bobby always defended his Dad.

"You're a sucker," Frankie told him. "Dad doesn't do anything for us, _ever_."

"Sometimes he wins money for us…"

"Yeah, and he spends it right away! He never buys anything for us! He barely buys food." Frankie was slowly reaching the point where he was realizing just what his father really was. Bobby was still so enamored with his father that he could see no wrong in him. He was so starved for love and affection that he would accept his father at any cost.

"Well, come on, let's go help Mom and make some dinner. I'm kinda hungry," Frankie said.

"Me, too!" Bobby agreed.

It took them a good portion of the night to clean up, and then they set about making dinner. There wasn't much to work with, but eventually Frankie found some cans of soup back in the cabinet, and heated it up. They had soup and bread with a little butter, and were so hungry that it tasted like the best meal they'd ever had.

Then they fixed a bowl for their mother, and took the soup and bread and butter on a tray to her. But Frances was unreceptive, and immediately threw the tray at them, hitting them both. The soup went everywhere, on the boys and on the wall, and the bowl broke into hundreds of pieces. This set her off even more, and she went off on another wild tangent, what horrible children they were and how God would punish them. Frankie gave up, and while she screamed at Bobby he went to his mother's purse and pulled out her pack of cigarettes, along with her matches. He went outside and sat on the steps and lit a cigarette. After things quieted down a little, Bobby finally escaped his mother and joined him. He was disheveled and hurting from his mother's manhandling him.

"Here," Frankie said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and handing it to Bobby. Then he took another cigarette and lit it, putting it between his lips and taking a drag. He watched Bobby for a moment, then said, "C'mon, Bobby, take a drag. It makes you calm down. I heard Dad say it's how you relax, and it's true. Not that we need it around here," he added sarcastically. "This is how you do it." He showed Bobby, who took a long drag and immediately started coughing.

Frankie laughed his first real laugh of the day. And in between coughing and choking, Bobby laughed, too. Forgotten for a while were all their troubles, as ten year old Frankie showed seven year old Bobby a technique for escaping the anxiety in a chaotic environment by teaching him how to smoke.

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

A/N I have been doing a little research on Schizophrenia and have found out that there are many different signs and symptoms, some that are common to a lot of sufferers and some that vary from person to person. This is just my take on it.

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 2

It wasn't long after her official diagnosis of Schizophrenia that Frances was first hospitalized. It didn't come at an opportune time—not that _any_ time was particularly a good time—it was just days before Thanksgiving. Things had actually been going pretty well, although Frances was only taking her medication sporadically, she was looking forward to the holidays. For a few days, at least, things appeared normal with the family. Or as normal as they could get in the Goren family, which in turn only made things even more unpredictable.

On this particular day seven-year-old Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table, elbows on table, head in hands, watching as his mother busied herself over the sink. He had a best friend, Lewis, whose mom made Christmas cookies, really good Christmas cookies. He wished him mom would make some cookies, and then he could help, like Lewis did.

"Ma? How come Lewis' mom made Christmas cookies, and it ain't Christmas?"

Frances was really tired of all his questions and his precociousness. Never very patient with him to begin with, the fact that her mind was so befuddled lately didn't help at all.

"Bobby, why do you continuously ask questions?"

"I dunno. But how come?"

"I don't know! Maybe because you can't make them all at the last minute! And maybe she wants some for Thanksgiving, I don't know! Ask _her!"_

"Oh. Ok. Ma?"

"_What,_ Bobby?"

"Will you make us Christmas cookies?"

"No. I can get them just as easily from the bakery. And save me a little work."

Bobby's mouth formed into a little pout, but he didn't say any more about it. He was pretty good at knowing when to let things go.

"Ma, are Gramma and Grampa coming for dinner on Thank…Thankgiving?"

"THANKSgiving, Bobby, and yes they are."

"Yay! And are we gonna have a big ol' turkey? And pumpin pie? And potatoes with candy on 'em and—"

"Bobby! That's enough! Go to your room!"

"But, Ma…"

"Now! And stay in there for the rest of the night!"

Bobby was always being sent to his room, by either his father or her, and he glowered at his mother, which only served to infuriate Frances. She screamed at him and tried to hit him. But Bobby saw the look in her eyes and quickly slid off the chair, running for his room before his mother could get to him. Luckily for him he was fast.

Bobby went racing through the living room past his dad and Frankie, who were sitting next to each other on the couch. Frank just scowled.

"Worthless little bastard," he said under his breath. Frankie looked up.

"What'd you say, Dad?"

"Nothing." Frank tried to hide his total disdain for Bobby from everyone. His ego took a big hit when Bobby was born and he realized, almost immediately, that Bobby was not his. Of course he would never admit to anyone that Bobby wasn't his son; it hurt his pride too much. And he definitely couldn't bring himself to show the little boy any love or affection; it totally galled him. Not to mention the fact that he would not give Frances the satisfaction of accepting _her_ son, even though, in reality, Frances was never sure who in fact had fathered Bobby, Frank or Mark Ford Brady. So Frank never had, nor would he ever, accept Bobby or give him the love and attention he craved and deserved.

[] [] []

Upon awakening the next morning, the day before Thanksgiving, Frances felt a bit guilty for once again punishing Bobby for merely being a child. She didn't know why she had so little patience with him, and like many times before, promised herself to be more tolerant with him. She considered having Grampa take him to the Thanksgiving Parade to make it up to him. Already she had forgotten that Grampa was just recovering from pneumonia, and tomorrow would be his first day out since then.

Going out to the living room she found both her sons sitting on the floor, watching tv and eating dry cereal.

"Why are you sitting in here eating cereal?"

"It's okay, Ma, we won't spill it," Frankie said, "There's no milk."

"Yeah, it's okay, Ma," Bobby chirped.

"I guess you all think that this is my fault? And your father, too?"

"No, Ma," the boys said together.

She stared at her two sons. "That's it, isn't it? You're all against me. I know everyone is against me. Even the neighbors…"

"NO, Ma!"

Looking again at her sons, she thought, _Bobby looks different_. _They both do. Why are they different?_

"What's wrong, Ma?" Frankie asked.

Frances didn't answer, just continued to stare, making both boys very uncomfortable.

"C'mon, Bobby, let's finish this in the kitchen." Frankie grabbed his and Bobby's bowls before Bobby could protest, but he didn't have to worry. Bobby was already following his brother's footsteps.

Frances continued to stare at the spot they had just left until the boys came back and snapped her out of it.

"Here, Bobby, give this to Ma." Frankie pushed a piece of paper into Bobby's hand.

Bobby shook his tousled head vehemently. "No, _you _do it!"

"I said, you!" Frankie refused to take it back from Bobby, so in the end, Bobby had to do it.

"H...h…here, Ma," Bobby said softly, handing the note to his mother, basically offering himself up for whatever happened.

Already suspicious, she grabbed it out of his hand. Bobby jumped back involuntarily.

She read the short note. _Went to the track—don't know when I'll be back-- Frank. _

"That son of a bitch!" she screamed. "That son of a bitch! How can I get everything done for tomorrow—"

"We'll help…" Frankie started.

Frances didn't even hear him. "He's supposed to get the chairs from the church! He's supposed to… how am I…well, he's not going to ruin this Thanksgiving!" With that, she grabbed Bobby and dragged him to the door. "You're going to help me," she told him, "and, Frankie, you are going to clean this house spotless!"

"Ok, Ma," Frankie said. As if he had a choice.

Bobby was surprised; his mother rarely took him anywhere, and he was actually pleased by the turn of events. They picked up the bus a couple of blocks over, and headed to the grocery store.

"You behave yourself," she told him as Bobby became antsy on the bus. Bobby tried to settle down, but he couldn't help fidgeting, and repeatedly got up to look out the window. Finally she took him by the hand, and squeezed his hand so hard she hurt him. Bobby did not cry, he hardly ever cried, as he tried unsuccessfully to pull away. But he never said anything, and the other bus riders never saw what she did. Frances told him very sweetly, "Honey, I told you to behave. Now sit done and be a good boy." Some of the riders smiled at the very attractive mother and her little look-alike son, never realizing the boy was in pain.

After they got off the bus at the grocery store, she finally let go of his hand. Bobby looked at his hand, which was already bruised.

"Maybe now you'll learn to mind me," Frances told him.

"Okay, Ma," Bobby whispered.

[] [] []

Once in the grocery store, Bobby started to get excited again. "Ma? Can I pick out the big 'ol turkey? I'll find the biggest one! Can I, Ma, can I?"

Frances looked around quickly. "Stop it! You're embarrassing me!"

Bobby lowered his dark eyes. "Sorry, Mama."

"My Bobby would never do that to me."

Bobby looked up at his mother. "Huh?"

She took Bobby's chin in her hand and raised his face to her, studying him intently. _This isn't Bobby,_ she thought. _They're trying to fool me… This boy… _

"Who are you?" she suddenly demanded, totally confusing him.

"B…Bobby…"

"Don't you lie to me!" she hissed. Then, very loudly, "Where is my son?"

"Ma—"

Frances grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Where is he?! Where is he?!"

Tears sprang to Bobby's eyes. "Mama, it's me… I'm Bobby…"

"We'll just see about that!" She grabbed his arm, not letting him go. Then she stopped a passing woman.

"Please help me," she told the woman. "I can't find my son… my real son!"

The woman frowned, then gave her a strange look and walked on.

"No!" Frances said, extremely upset. "Don't go! Please! My son, I can't find my son!"

"Ma—" Bobby tried to tell her he was here, but she only got more anxious. "Someone!" She screamed. "Anyone! Help me!"

Frances was causing such a disturbance that the store manager, followed by his assistants, arrived.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

"No!" She spat. "My son is gone, I think they have him!"

"Who? What? Someone kidnapped your son?"

"Yes! It's them, I know it!"

The manager looked at Bobby. "Who are you?"

"I'm Bobby."

"Is this your mother?"

"Yes."

"You have a brother? And someone kidnapped him? Jimmy, call the police." As Assistant manager Jimmy ran off to the office to call the police, Bobby tried to explain what was going on, and realized he didn't know what was going on. He was as much in the dark as everyone else.

"Okay, lady, let's get you and your son into the office—"

"He's _not_ my son!"

"What? This kid? He's not your son?"

"No!" Frances screamed, nearly hysterical now. "He's faking! They took my son and left this… this…" She couldn't even find a word for Bobby now. "He's in on it! Don't let him get away!"

The manager took Bobby from Frances' grip, and held on to him. "Don't worry, lady, he's not going anywhere."

"You've got to find my son! Please, before they hurt him!" Frances was severely agitated now and totally losing control. She attempted to run out of the office, right into the arms of the policeman who just arrived.

"Okay, lady, settle down—"

"No! Let me go! I've got to find my son! Help me, please!" The policeman barely managed to hold her as he called for backup. As the other police arrived and Frances became even more incoherent, it was determined that there was definitely something wrong with her, and a call was put in to the hospital.

[] [] []

If the store managers and the police thought Frances was out of control before, they hadn't seen anything yet as hospital personnel tried to restrain her. She screamed at them, she screamed at Bobby, threatening bodily harm to them all. As they attempted to get her into the ambulance, even Bobby got hysterical. He had no idea what they were doing to his mother and he cried and screamed for her, begging them not to take his mother away. One of the policemen held him as he reached frantically for his mother.

"MAMA! Don't go, please! Mama! Don't take my mom away," he cried pitifully.

If Frances heard him or even recognized him, she gave no indication as they were putting her in the ambulance.

As the ambulance pulled away, Bobby was still struggling in the policeman's grasp, still reaching for his mother. He sobbed, the tears spilling down his face. "Please don't go, Mama…"

tbc

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 3

Seven-year-old Bobby watched helplessly as the ambulance took off down the street with his mother inside.

"Mama, please don't go," he whispered, watching the ambulance as it quickly turned the corner and disappeared.

Officer Bill Wagner shook his head. "What a whacko."

His partner, Mike O'Brian, indicated the little boy still being held by Wagner. "Hey, Bill, the kid… c'mon, man… "

Wagner, a longtime veteran of the force, didn't seem to care; he was tired of it all, the disturbed and sick cases, all the welfare cases, not to mention the paperwork involved.

"Listen, Mike," Wagner explained patiently to his young partner, "when you've been on the force longer you'll see. It's people like this who are the dregs of society. We're the ones gotta pay for all this. You think that crazy woman's gonna pay for being in that hospital? Did you see her? She ain't got no money. No way, they're all looking for a free ride. It's us, the taxpayers, we're the ones who work and pay our own way."

"Shit, man, you're a cop—"

"So what? That makes me a saint? Another couple of years and you'll get it."

_Somehow I doubt that,_ Mike thought.

Then he busied himself, joining Wagner and the store manager in talking to Bobby, trying to find out who he was and where he lived. But Bobby never heard a word. All he could think about was the sight of the big men restraining his mother and forcing her into the ambulance. And all he could hear were the last words his mother said: _Please let me go! I have to find my son! This is your fault, Bobby; you've done this to me! I'm going to kill you for this! I'm going to kill you! This is all your fault! _This disturbed him, very deeply, but the worst words, the ones that most upset him were her crying to the ambulance attendants, _You're hurting_ _me!_ _Stop, please, oh God, you're hurting me! Please…_

"Yo, kid, ya listening to me?" Officer Wagner asked impatiently, giving him a little shove.

Bobby looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears, and very anxious. "They're hurtin' my Mom…"

"She'll be alright, kid. What'd ya say your name is?"

"Don't let 'em hurt my Mom! Don't let 'em!" Again he tried to pull away, put Wagner held him tighter.

"Hey, she'll be alright," O'Brian told him softly. "What's your name?"

Getting nothing from Bobby, Wagner chimed in, "C'mon, kid, we gotta take you _somewhere_."

But all Bobby did was stare at the last place he had seen his mom. The tears that were brimming in his eyes now began to run down his cheeks in big droplets. He kept whispering, "They're hurtin' my mom…"

Officer Wagner was getting frustrated. "Listen, kid, you want to end up in some kind of a home or something?"

Bobby flinched, and looked up at Wagner. _Some kind of a home_… He knew all about homes. Daddy told him, told him he was going to put him in a home the next time he was bad.

_XXXXX_

_Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table, where he'd been for the last hour. Frances had been up all night cleaning, because the king and queen of England were coming to visit, and she wanted the house spotless. Frank had just wanted to sleep, which was impossible with her vacuuming over and over, so they argued half the night, with Frank calling her a crazy psycho bitch the whole time. Of course both boys were awake and as always, heard all that went on. Frances had finally fallen asleep, but Frank hadn't, and he was in a foul mood now._

"_Eat it," he commanded Bobby for the umpteenth time. And once again, Bobby refused; he hated oatmeal to begin with, and there was no sugar or milk, and wasn't quite even cooked all the way. Now it had become a battle of wills, and there was no doubt who the winner would be._

"_Don't like it," Bobby said softly._

"_Did I ASK if you liked it?" Frank slammed his fist on the table, making Bobby jump, then sink down in the chair as far as he could. In a dangerously low voice Frank said, "You are going to eat this if I have to shove it down your throat! You are not going to win, pal, I am. Now eat."_

_Bobby picked up his spoon, and brought it to his open mouth. But as soon as it touched his lips and he tasted it, he clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn't look up._

_Frank was furious. "Okay, pal, you wanna play games? Well now we're going to play it my way." Frank grabbed the spoon out of Bobby's hand, filled it with the oatmeal and tried to force it in Bobby's mouth, but Bobby refused to open his mouth. So Frank took hold of Bobby's nose and held it, forcing Bobby to open his mouth in order to breathe. Frank force-fed him, shoved it in, and held his mouth shut. With Bobby half swallowing and half choking, Frank finally managed to get it all down his throat._

_Frank stood there watching Bobby for a moment, still very angry, but satisfied in his triumph over his seven year old. "Listen to me, pal, as long as I'm bigger than you are, you aren't going to win. Got it?"_

_Bobby nodded, still coughing and choking._

"_You screw up just one more time, Bobby, just one more time, and I'm shipping your ass out to some kind of a home! Or reform school. Know what they do there to kids like you?"_

_Bobby shook his head, and Frank grinned at him, enjoying this now._

"_They beat the kids there, every day, twice a day. And that's just the good kids. Kids like you they beat five times a day, then lock you in a closet. And the only food you get is oatmeal with worms in it."_

_Bobby's eyes were huge, and Frank continued, "In fact, I think I'll call them now to come get you." He reached for the phone. "Hello?" Bobby didn't see him hold the receiver button down. "Is this the home for wayward boys?"_

_Bobby wasn't exactly sure what a wayward boy was, but he assumed it was a bad boy, cause he was always bad.__He ran to his dad, clutching his dad's waist.__ "I'll be good, Daddy! Don't send me there! I promise I'll be good…"_

"_I love you, Daddy," Bobby said, looking up at him, hoping for any sign of affection from his father. Anything._

_Frank stared down at him, but refused to so much as even touch him. He walked away, forcing Bobby to relinquish his hold on him. A moment later, Frank turned back. "Just one more time, Bobby," he threatened him. _

_As Bobby watched his father walk away, he repeated, very softly, "I love you, Daddy." _

_XXXX_

"Don't send me there!" Bobby begged Officer Wagner.

"Wait!" Mr. Carlisle interrupted. "He said his name was Bobby. I think. Or maybe Robby… Or…"

"Or maybe you don't know. We don't even know if he really is her son. She said he wasn't. Let's try to find out where he lives, and then we'll get Child Protective Services to take him."

"No!" Bobby said, sobbing now. "I don't wanna go there! I want my mom! I-- "

Wagner sighed. His shift should be over now. "C'mon Bobby-Robby, let's just get this over with, okay?" He took his eyes off Bobby for just a second, and that's all it took. Bobby suddenly took off running, surprising everyone.

"Hey, get back here!" Wagner yelled, giving chase. Mike joined in, too, along with a few store employees, all fanning out to try and catch him. But Bobby had disappeared.

Wagner was bent over, breathing hard. "Son of a Bitch!"

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Little Boy Lost Chapter 4

Bobby ran as fast as he could. He could hear that mean cop coming, yelling at him. The last thing he wanted was to be put in a home, especially now that he knew what they would do to him. He was familiar with it all: the beatings, the closets… He couldn't let them take him home; Daddy would make them take him, and then he couldn't help Ma. He had to get away.

Bobby outmaneuvered them at every step, and finally came to some overgrown weeds behind an old building. There was a lot of trash, trash dumpsters, and old planks of lumber. It was the perfect hiding place. He could stay here until they all went away, and then he could go and try to find his mom.

He could hear voices as the policemen and others searched and called for him. One of the searchers came within three feet of him. Bobby closed his eyes and held his breath, willing them away. It worked; soon they were heading off in another direction, that is, until a big stray dog came along and ruined it.

The dog, a huge Heintz 57 stray, stood near the spot where Bobby hid under some boards, and barked playfully.

"Shhh," Bobby whispered to the dog, but it only made the dog excited, and it barked louder and tried to dig to get at Bobby. Bobby kept trying to shush the dog, but the results were the same, the dog only got more excited and barked non-stop, wanting to play.

It wasn't long before the police heard the commotion, and knew what it was. They turned back. Wagner grinned, and headed towards Bobby.

Bobby saw him and knew what was coming. _Oh, no!_ he thought. "Shhh," he repeated to the dog. But the dog crawled under the planks and started licking him. For a moment, Bobby forgot his troubles, and let the dog lick him, laughing as it tickled him. Bobby had always loved dogs, and hugged him as the dog climbed on him as best as it could under the planks.

"Hi, ya, Boy!" Bobby whispered, putting his arm around the dog's neck. "Be quiet, Boy, okay?" The dog responded by licking him some more, making Bobby giggle. He immediately loved the dog. A dog was one thing he had always wanted, but Daddy would never let him have one. _There's already too many mouths to feed_ _around here_, he told Bobby happily. Happily for Frank, he took great pleasure in denying Bobby things. But right now Bobby was in his element, if only for a few moments.

In minutes, Wagner reached Bobby's hiding spot. O'Brian followed at a distance.

"Get out here, kid, now," Wagner ordered.

Bobby didn't budge, and held on to the dog tightly. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears.

Wagner was really pissed. All he wanted was to be home, relaxing with a beer in front of the tv; and this kid… He kicked at one of the planks, yelling, "Get out here now before I drag you out!"

Bobby moved back, frightened by the man's kicking. And the dog started barking and suddenly tore loose and stood there growling at Wagner. Surprised, Wagner backed off for a second, then suddenly kicked the dog, hard. The dog yelped, limping off a few feet.

"No!" Bobby screamed, climbing out and running at Wagner. Wagner grinned again, easily taking Bobby, wrapping his arms around him so he couldn't move. But the dog came back again, and bit him. Wagner cried out, then kicked at it again, once again hurting it's leg, as Bobby cried and tried to free himself. The dog could hardly stand now. But it did, standing unsteadily, and growling at Wagner.

At that moment O'Brian reached them. "Bill!" O'Brian tried to reason with him. "The dog's just trying to protect the kid. Leave it alone."

"Damn fuckin' dog tried to attack me!" Wagner said angrily.

"No it didn't—Christ, Bill, you hurt it!"

"Look at what the damn dog did to _me_!" He showed O'Brian his ankle where the dog had bit him. "I ought to shoot it…"

"NO!" Bobby yelled. "Don't shoot my dog!"

Wagner was really angry, and frustrated. This kid was more than a handful. "Let's get the hell out of here, Mike, get him to social services, then we can go home."

Wagner started back to his car, still holding Bobby, who stared back at the dog. "Bye, Boy," he said forlornly.

"I'll be there in a minute. O'Brian waited, wanting to see if the dog was okay. "C'mere, Big Fellow," he said.

The big scruffy dog held back for a minute, then seemed to instinctively know Mike was okay. He limped slowly up to O'Brian, who felt his leg gently, giving him a quick once-over. "Okay, looks like it might hurt for a while, but it's not broke." He patted the dog's head. "Good dog. He deserved to get bitten, and a lot more. I should keep you around," he chuckled.

XXX

On the way back to the station house, the two policemen barely spoke. Each knew their partner was pissed, and wisely remained quiet. Bobby just lay on the seat in the back, miserable. A lot had happened in a relatively short period of time, confusing and distressing him.

Once they got back and brought Bobby into the station house, Wagner took some flak from his colleagues.

"Who you got there, Wagner? Baby Face Nelson?" Everyone except Wagner and O'Brian laughed. Another said, "Looks like you finally caught up with Billy the Kid. Good job, man! You'll make detective yet!" Yet a third couldn't help joining in. "What did this one do? Exceed the speed limit on his trike?"

"Shut up," Wagner growled, then turned to face them. "Why don't one of you bleeding hearts call Social Services? When they get here, send them in to us."

The guys wouldn't let up though. "Hey, go easy on the kid, Wagner. Watch him, O'Brian, don't let him use those brass knuckles on him. A rubber hose works better, and won't leave marks."

Everyone busted up laughing, with the exception, once again, of Wagner, who gave them a dirty look. O'Brian just tried to keep from laughing, knowing how bad that would piss off his already fuming partner.

They took Bobby into the conferen room, where Bobby immediately freed himself of Bill Wagner, getting as far away from him as possible. He stood near a corner, not looking at either of them. O'Brian noticed this, and could see that between his partner's attitude towards Bobby, and Bobby's fear and stubbornness, nothing good could be accomplished.

"Yo, Bill, what don't I take a go at the kid?"

Wagner scoffed. "You? What the hell do you know about kids?"

"I'm not saying I'm an expert or anything, but I got a kid brother, and I get through to him, well, at least part of the time…"

"Sure, what the hell! Give it a shot," Wagner said, privately thinking this was a total waste of time, a joke.

Mike smiled. "Okay, just let_ me_ talk to him, okay?"

"What? You want me to leave?"

"Yeah, just give me a coupla' minutes."

Wagner stared at him and at Bobby, then turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Bobby flinched a little, and O'Brian said, "It's okay, he won't really hurt you; he's just a big ol' grumpy bear. He's like that when he doesn't get enough coffee during the day."

Bobby looked up at him through his long dark lashes. "Mommy drinks coffee," he offered.

"Yeah?"

Bobby nodded. "And so do me and Frankie. 'Allo time."

"Frankie?"

"My brother."

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking coffee?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, sir. It relaxes me."

O'Brian nearly busted up laughing. This kid was something else. He put his hand over his mouth to stop himself. "What did you say?"

"Frankie said it relaxes us. Like smoking."

Now O'Brian didn't think it was so funny. "What? You smoke, too?"

"Uh huh. It calms us down."

"Says your brother? Just how old is your brother?"

"Ten."

_Jesus Christ!_ Mike thought. _A ten_ _year old and a—"_And how old are you?"

"I'm seven," Bobby said proudly. "I'm big now."

"You sure are," Mike told him encouragingly, "a real big boy now. What'd you say your name is?"

"Bobby."

Mike smiled at him. "Bobby…?"

"Bobby Goren. And I'm in second grade now. Can we go and get that dog?

"Huh?" That last question took Mike by surprise. "What?"

"I wanna go get that dog. And take him home. He don't have no home, I can tell. And I'll hide him from Daddy."

"Well, we'll look into that, Bobby, but first we have to know where you live." It hurt Mike to lie to Bobby, but he felt he had to in order to get Bobby to open up.

Bobby blurted out his address, and immediately was sorry. "Sorry," he said softly.

Mike furrowed his eyebrows. "Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

Tears welled up in Bobby's eyes. "Cause I was playin' with that dog, and thinkin' bout that dog.''

"Yeah, so?" Mike was confused.

"Cause I was bein' happy, and I forgot about my mom, and those guys who were hurtin' her." Now the tears ran down his cheeks. "I really _am_ bad, like Ma says, and now I gotta go to a home and I'll never see Ma ever again!"

"You're not a bad kid, Bobby," Mike told him. "You're just a kid. A good kid." He put his arm around Bobby's thin shoulders to comfort him. And Bobby turned in to Mike, hiding his face, but accepting the comfort; a good feeling, one that he rarely ever felt.

XXX

By this time the social worker, Tina McPeters, had arrived, and was listening to Mike and Bobby. "Well... at least he got an address from him," she told Wagner. "But what about the mother? Didn't she have any identification on her?"

Wagner snorted. "You kidding? We checked her purse, and with the exception of a lone, whadda you call it, bobby pin, the damn thing was empty. Wonder how she was gonna pay?" he said sarcastically.

The social worker frowned. "Well, obviously they have problems. But first, we have to go to this boy's home and find out what is going on there, who's taking care of them while their mother is away. Then, I guess we'll have to take it from there."

As usual Wagner was pessimistic. "Well, I don't know where he's going now, but I can tell you where he's gonna end up someday."

McPeters just shook her head.

Back in the other room, Mike O'Brian watched Bobby for a momet, and realized what a really smart, sweet and sensitive little boy Bobby was. And Mike made a decision. Somewhere, somehow, he was going to find that dog.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Little Boy Lost Chapter 5

McPeters and Wagner returned to the room where Bobby and O'Brian were still talking.

O'Brian noticed Bobby sort of holding his left hand. "Something wrong with your hand?" he asked.

Bobby immediately dropped his hands below the table. "No, sir."

"Let me see," Mike said, offering his own hand.

Bobby shook his head. "Doesn't hurt."

"Well, let me see it anyway, just to make sure."

Bobby hung his head. He screwed up again.

"C'mon, Bobby. Please?"

Bobby sighed, and showed Mike his hand. His hand was bruised and swollen, where his mother had held his hand on the bus and ground his fingers together most of the way.

"Who did this, Bobby?"

Bobby gave his stock answer. "Nobody. I fell off my bike."

Wagner snorted, then growled, "He's lying, and he's pretty bad at it. If there's one thing I hate, it's being lied to."

Bobby lowered his head again, going for invisibility.

"C'mon, Bill, knock it off," Mike said.

Then McPeters got into it. "Bobby, honey, did your mama do this to you?"

"It was an ascident," Bobby told them. "And it don't hurt anyway," he repeated.

"How was it an accident?" Wagner snorted. "Do you have a lot of accidents? Does your dad ever 'accidently' throw you against the wall?"

"No… " Bobby looked confused. "How can you do that on ascident?"

Wagner threw his hands up. "That's it, I'm done!" He went off and stood by the wall.

"Bobby," Mrs. McPeters continued, "does anyone at your home ever hurt you?"

Bobby shook his head fiercely. "No!"

"Even by accident?"

"No."

"But you just said your mom hurt your hand by accident."

Now Bobby didn't know what to say. Finally he decided to tell the truth. "It's cause I'm always bad."

"Why says you're always bad, Bobby?"

"Daddy and Ma both says so. I'm always bad, and I gotta learn my lesson." Bobby was very serious.

Mrs. McPeters nodded her head in understanding, and Bobby took that to mean she agreed with his parents.

Bobby looked up at them through his long eyelashes. "Daddy wishes I was never borned. He said…" Bobby struggled to get the words just right. "He said he wishes I was never borned, and that life would be easier if I was wasn't around."

Mike O'Brian was outraged. He hated the thought that anyone, particularly a father, would ever even _think_ that about his own child, let alone say it to the child. He felt bad for Bobby. There was something about him, maybe his vulnerability, that made him special to Mike. He couldn't imagine Bobby doing anything so bad that could make him so unloved by his father.

"I'm sure your father doesn't mean that," Mike told him soothingly, trying to dispel that thought from his mind. Bobby just looked at Mike. He knew his father meant it. But somehow, it felt good that Mike tried to make him feel better.

X X X

It was finally decided that they would take Bobby home, and check out his home life and the conditions in which Bobby and his brother lived. Wagner insisted they take Bobby in their patrol car, while Mrs. McPeters followed behind, so he couldn't run away. "Because the first chance he gets this little shit will take off. He's done it once already. We just plain got lucky to find him." Wagner looked purposely at his partner, daring him to disagree. "Am I not right?"

Reluctantly, O'Brian agreed. "Yeah, I gotta say, he did take off."

Wagner grabbed Bobby roughly, then shoved him in front of him. "You, come with me."

"Officer Wagner!" McPeters said. "You don't have to be so forceful! He's just a child!" And Mike O'Brian had had enough. He stalked over to Wagner, and literally pushed him away from Bobby.

"Leave him alone!" O'Brian snarled. "Why do you have to do that?!"

Wagner slightly stumbled, then looked at him incredulously. "Mike… I'm going to chalk this up to you being overly emotional, with your wife getting ready to drop another kid and all… But you ever do that again…" He didn't finish, leaving it up to Mike's imagination.

Mike backed off, and Bobby ran to him, hugging his legs. He ruffled Bobby's hair, telling him softly, "It's okay, kid…"

Bobby looked up at him with those dark intense eyes. Mike had to look away. Those eyes, always searching for some love or affection of any kind, were now looking at Mike as if he were some kind of hero.

X X X

The patrol car, with Wagner, O'Brian and Bobby pulled up to the Goren household, with Mrs. McPeters right behind them. Both Frank and Frankie were sitting on the outside step, a few beer bottles littering the ground next to Frank.

Watching from the back seat, Bobby suddenly started squirming; immediately upon seeing his dad, he knew he was in trouble. "I don't wanna go!" he said, getting down as low in the seat as possible. Mike opened the door and gently coerced Bobby out of the car. Bobby clung to his pants leg.

As the two policemen walked up with Bobby, both Frank and Frankie stood up.

"Wow, Dad!" Frankie's eyes were huge. "Those cops are bringing Bobby home!"

"Shut up," Frank told him. Then, to the cops, indicating Bobby, "What'd he do this time?"

O'Brian bristled. "He didn't do _anything! _You Frank Goren?"

"Yeah… "

"We're Officers O'Brian, Wagner, and this is Mrs. McPeters from Social Services. Mr. Goren, we've been trying to get a hold of you."

"Oh, sorry. Been… uh, out looking for my son. I've been kind of worried, y'know? Damn kid takes off all the time."

_Didn't look too worried when we pulled up_, O'Brian thought, glancing at the beer bottles. He then proceeded to inform Frank about the situation with Frances. Even Frank was shocked, he never figured on the possibility of hospitalization. Although he did care for Frances somewhat, his biggest concern was the money.

"Goddamnit! Wonder how much that's gonna cost me?" Frank said, mostly to himself. "So where'd you find him, anyway?" Much to Frank's chagrin, Bobby was still standing next to Mike, hissmall hand still fisted into Mike's pant leg.

"He was with his mother when the… uh, incident happened."

"Figures, he's always setting her off… Now this is gonna cost _me_." He gave Bobby a hard stare, and Bobby backed off almost imperceptibly.

But Mrs. McPeters noticed. "You ever hit Bobby, Mr. Goren?"

"What? No, of course not! He tell you I did that? He's a God-damned little liar! You tell them that, Bobby?!"

"No," Bobby answered, backing away even more. God, he was in so much trouble!

"Actually, Mr. Goren," O'Brian interjected, "he did everything in his power to tell us just the opposite."

"What?"

"You know what, Mr. Goren?" O'Brian got right in Frank's face.

Frank didn't back down. "No, what?" he sneered.

"Tell him, Mrs. McPeters," O'Brian urged her.

"Mr. Goren, I just think you should know," she started. "We find that in a good number of cases, the kids that protest the most that they're not being hurt are the ones who are being abused."

"So is he still a liar?" O'Brian asked.

Frank didn't have an answer to that, just narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? Well, whatever, that ain't the case here. I never touch that kid. Frankie, do I ever hit you kids?"

Frankie merely shook his head. "Uh uh."

"Well, thanks for bringing him home," Frank said, ending the conversation. He put his arm around Bobby's shoulder, steering him inside, along with Frankie.

Mike O'Brian felt uneasy. "Mr. Goren!"

Frank turned back, and waited.

"Mr. Goren… he's… take care of him, okay?"

Frank just turned back and went into the house.

"He's gonna hurt that kid, I know it," O'Brian said tensely.

Wagner was flippant. "The guy didn't do anything, Mike. Ain't a damn thing we can do. Besides, you can't save 'em all. You know that."

"Yeah, I know… he just seems like a good kid…"

McPeters felt the same way. "I'll talk with my supervisor. Make a few inquiries around the neighborhood and make a few visits here periodically."

Mike nodded. This was about as good as it was going to get.

X X X

Once inside the house Bobby ran off to his room. Frank looked out the window, saw the police car and that woman drive away. Then he headed to Frankie and Bobby's room.

"Get out," he told Frankie, who quickly and wisely got out of their room.

Frank slammed the bedroom door closed.

"You fucking screw everything up, don't you?"

Bobby wouldn't look at his Dad. "I'm s…sorry."

Before Bobby even realized it, Frank was there, and backhanded him hard in the mouth, splitting his lip.

"Now go on, let's see you cry," Frank taunted. Bobby refused, still not looking at him.

Frank grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him. "Goddamnit! You look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Reluctantly, Bobby looked up at him. His lip was bleeding and already starting to bruise. But he didn't cry.

Frank smiled unpleasantly. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you, huh?"

Bobby didn't know why to say. "I… I don't know…" he mumbled through his rapidly swelling lip.

"You just don't get it, do you? Always in trouble, always setting your mother off—maybe I should've just let woman take you—"

"No…" Bobby whispered. Although his home life wasn't exactly the best, it was the only one he knew. "I'll be good, Daddy, I promise." Despite his resolution, tears now trickled down his cheeks. Not for the physical pain, but the mental.

"You're damn right you will," Frank told him. His fingers tapped on his belt buckle.

X X X

{}{}{}{}{}{}

"Frankie, why doesn't Daddy love me?" Bobby sniffled from his bed later that night.

"I don't know," Frankie answered, in his own bed. "I think maybe because you don't look like him. You look like Ma."

"Oh." Bobby thought about that. "But Daddy likes Mommy… sometimes."

Frankie shrugged. "But Dad says boys should look like their dads. And you don't. Dad says you look too much like Ma; your hair is curly like Ma's, and your eyelashes are long like a girl. He doesn't like that."

"If I cut off my eyelashes, will Dad like me then, like he likes you?" Bobby asked hopefully.

"You're stupid! Dad just likes me better, just like Ma does. Go to sleep!" With that, Frankie flopped down on his pillow and turned his back.

"Frankie?"

But Frankie was done talking for the night. Bobby lay awake for a long time, trying to think of something he could do that would make his dad like him. There had to be something, anything… but it was true; Daddy really did wish he was never born. Despite feeling bad about the fact that his father didn't love him, Bobby fell asleep clinging to the hope that maybe someday, maybe when he was older, like Frankie, his Daddy would finally love him. Unfortunately for Bobby that day would never come.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Little Boy Lost Chapter 6

Mark Ford Brady paced restlessly across the bedroom of his swanky hotel suite. He was frustrated. He'd been doing a lot of thinking lately. The kind of thoughts that nagged and settled in the crevices of his mind. He couldn't get rid of these latest urgings, the ones telling him to hurt. To hurt something, to kill, to rape, to do anything to relieve these inescapable urges. His thoughts returned once again to his previous conquests, or victims, as the police would say, and a huge grin found its way to his face.

Yeah, some of conquests, they were _nice._ Well, they were _all_ nice, some more so than others. He thought of Gwen, the sexy and lithe waitress who could put her body into impossible positions, and Regina, the telephone operator who was built like a brick shithouse, and Frances, the feisty, pretty little mother. Those were his favorites, especially Frances. She was the one, of all of them that he would have married. Except she was already married, the bitch. To that no good loser… what was his name? Frank. The guy raising _his_ kid. Frances could deny it all she wanted; he knew that kid was his. It really rankled him that Frank was raising his kid.

_What the hell was the kid's name anyway?_ For the life of him, he couldn't remember. But something along the way would jog his memory. He hadn't thought of the kid in a long time. Maybe he should pay him a little visit, just for a while. Let him know who his real daddy is. Wouldn't that teach that little bitch Frances a lesson? The thought of snatching Frances' kid, his kid, was starting to turn him on. He'd have to look into that. He could get to the city in no time, with a little prep, he could grab the kid in a second.

X X X

Frankie Goren sat on the edge of his little brother's bed, watching Bobby sleep as the moonlight shone on his innocent little face. Every once in a while Bobby would shift in his sleep, causing him to cry out or sob in his sleep, and Frankie would tell him softly, "It's okay, Bobby," and pat his back gently, trying to avoid the places where their father's belt had left marks. It was times like this that made Frankie hate their father. Even he couldn't understand why Dad treated Bobby like he did. Both Mom and Dad seemed to take shots at Bobby all the time, and he had to admit that he did, too. But his was being a big brother teaching an annoying little brother a lesson. At least that was the reasoning in his mind. But Mom and Dad… when either was drunk or "sick" they seemed to take it out on Bobby, and Dad didn't even need to be drunk. He couldn't figure out why Dad didn't love Bobby, and in reality he suspected it had nothing to do with Bobby's long eyelashes.

Frankie patted Bobby one more time, then quietly slipped under the sheets of his own bed and slept a troubled sleep. No matter what anyone thought, it was always very disturbing to watch a sibling being abused.

Bobby woke up early on Thanksgiving Day, his back stiff and hurting, but still very excited like he always was on holidays. In addition to his nightmare, he'd had a good dream, too: Gramma and Grampa came over, and Grampa took him to the Thanksgiving parade and they had a big ol' turkey dinner. That wasn't just a good dream, that was a _great _dream!

Frankie was still asleep, and Bobby got up to run to his parents' bedroom.

"Ma?" He looked at the empty bed, and suddenly the events of the previous night came back. He been exhausted when he finally fell asleep, exhausted by all the emotion arising from his mother being taken away and hurt right before his eyes, his own ordeal with the police, and his father knocking him around. Seeing the empty bed brought it all back.

"Ma…."

But of course his mother couldn't answer him. Bobby felt like crying, and tells welled in his eyes. It was his fault Ma got taken away. If he didn't ask questions all the time… Then he looked for his father. He went to the living room, where he found his father lying on the couch, passed out, an empty bottle of whiskey lying on the floor, along with some plates and trash. The tv was still on from the night before, but all it was, was snow. Soon the regular tv stations would come on.

Bobby stood there, barely breathing, until he was sure his father was sound asleep. Although this scene was a familiar one, Bobby was still always on the alert, always vigilant. Between his mother and his father it was a full time job.

Bobby pouted a little. _No big turkey dinner today. _Very cautiously he stepped closer to his father, and reached down and picked up the empty whiskey bottle. He smelled it, and had to back away from it, making a face. Then he picked up the trash, throwing it away along with the bottle. He cleaned up the whole living room around his father. After all that was done, he turned the channel on the tv to the Thanksgiving parade, keeping the volume very low.

Bobby watched in awe as the big balloons passed by on the screen, at the costumes and the bands. He loved every minute of it. He was completely engrossed in the parade, when suddenly his father switched off the tv. Bobby looked up at his father's angry face, then quickly scooted out of his father's reach. Frank made a feeble grab for him, stumbled, and made his way back to the couch.

"I'm trying to sleep!" he snarled. "Get outta here!"

"Sorry, Daddy," Bobby said, then ran back to his room.

A few moments later Frank opened the door to Bobby and Frankie's room, where Frankie was now awake, talking with Bobby.

"You're on your... own... for... dinner," he slurred. The boys sat quietly for a few minutes until they heard the front door slam.

"Son of a bitch!" Frankie said angrily. "It's Thanksgiving, and Mom ain't here, and Dad ain't here. And we gotta fix our own dinner." He thought about it for a moment, then added, "Well I'm gonna go to Joey's, they'll let me eat dinner there."

"What about me?" Bobby asked.

Frankie shrugged. "I don't know… don't think they'll let us both stay…" Frankie went about getting dressed, while Bobby returned to the living room where he put the parade on again.

After a few minutes, Frankie emerged and stood watching the parade for a bit. "Dad took me to the parade once," he commented. Although Frankie did care for Bobby, every once in a while he liked to lord it over Bobby, show him his place in this family.

Bobby looked up at him. "Dad took y_ou_ to the parade?" he repeated enviously.

"Yep. Me and Dad and Mom all went. Dad didn't want you to go, said you were too little, so Mom got a babysitter for you."

Bobby's face felt hot, as once again he felt the bitter shame of being unwanted.

Frankie didn't hang around long, and soon Bobby was by himself. He sat there watching the parade until the end, when Santa Claus came in on the last float. Bobby watched, feeling slightly cheated and angry. He had never believed in Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny, or any of the legends other children believed in. They had all failed him.

After the parade was over, Bobby went outside. Once outside, somehow he felt safer. Cold, but safer. He never felt safe even in his own home. The weather had turned cooler outside, and the light jacket he was wearing really wasn't enough, but Bobby didn't care. Safe was better than warm.

He wandered around the streets for a while, wondering if all the other people in their neighborhood were having a turkey dinner. He wasn't sure what he'd eat tonight, but he was sure it wouldn't be turkey. After a while he found himself on the steps of Lewis's house. He debated whether he should knock at all, when suddenly the door was pulled open and Lewis stood there grinning.

"Hi 'ya. Bobby!"

Bobby grinned back. "Hi, Lewis. Can you come out ? We could go to the park…"

"Sure! Let me tell Mom. MOM!"

Lorena Renelle, Lewis 's mother, came to the door. "Why hello, Bobby! Haven't seen—" She stopped when she saw Bobby's mouth, which was still bruised and swollen. The look on her face turned to rage, causing Bobby to back away.

"No no, Honey!" Lorena said, knowing he thought she was mad at him. She reached out and took his hand, and led him into their living room. Her husband was there; they had all been watching the parade, and now there was football.

"Look who's here, Jim," she said to her husband, giving him a look. He looked at Bobby, immediately realizing what the look was for. He shook his head.

"Hello, Bobby. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Home. And school," he said shyly.

Lorena went to the kitchen, where she took out one of the pies she had baked for the day. She set both Bobby and Lewis up with milk and pie. "Bobby honey, how did you hurt your mouth?" Lorena asked in a very pleasant manner, hoping he'd be distracted enough by the food to answer truthfully.

But Bobby didn't miss a beat. "Fell off my bike." He hurriedly ate his pie.

She never really expected a truthful answer. "Are you having turkey today, Bobby?" she continued.

Bobby shook his head. "Ma's inna hospital," Bobby announced, "some bad men hurt her."

"What?!"

"They took her cause I was bad and she was mad at me, and now she can't come home." Bobby spoke very softly, totally ashamed that his 'badness' had caused so much trouble. Now the tears came. "I'm always bad!"

Lorena was shocked over this news. She gathered Bobby in her arms. "Baby, you are _not_ bad! Don't you ever let them tell you that! You are a good boy. You always help your mom, right? And you mind your parents..."

Bobby nodded his head, trying to wipe his tears away. He always tried to be good, but it never seemed to work. "But Daddy said our family would be okay if I was gone..."

"Where is that... your father?" Lorena's voice had an angry edge to it, which she tried to hide.

Bobby shrugged. "Don't know. Nobody's home. Can we go out now?"

"Yes, but you boys don't go any further than the park. And Bobby, you can stay for dinner. We're having a nice Thanksgiving dinner."

"Yay, Bobby!" Lewis whooped. "You get to stay for dinner! We're having turkey, and stuffin' and corn and pies and whipped cream!"

Bobby smiled, happy as a clam, at least for a while.

Lorena just loved his little smile.

"Thank you," Bobby said politely. "Can we go out now, Missus Renelle?"

"Okay, and Lewis, you know the rules…"

Lewis sighed. "Play nice, don't get in trouble, and don't talk to strangers."

Lorena smiled, and ruffled Lewis' hair. "That's my little man…"

Both boys giggled, and Lewis turned a bright shade of red. "Mom!"

"Okay, okay! Get going, I don't want you gone too long. It's getting colder as we speak. And (_of course_) Bobby only has a light jacket."

"Okay, Mom." The boys started down the street, heading for the park, playing tag and chasing each other.

No one noticed the Volkswagen bus that followed slowly behind the boys. Brady was not happy with himself over this turn of events. He should have grabbed Bobby before he got to that other kid's house. He'd have to get rid of that other kid… he wanted some quality time with his son.

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 7

"C'mon, Lewis!" Bobby said, turning around and waiting for Lewis. "You're too slow."

"No I'm not!" Lewis defended himself. But he really couldn't figure out how Bobby got to be so much faster than him. Or how Bobby got two inches taller than him, 'specially since they were the same age. _Darn it._

Mark Ford Brady tapped the steering wheel absently, and watched the boys with interest. Somehow he needed to get that freaky little kid away from his own little bastard. He laughed at that. The kid literally _was_ a bastard. He wondered if the guy his kid called "Dad" knew? And how he treated him? For some reason he felt an anger building up at the thought that maybe this guy mistreated his kid. Only because it _was_ his kid. It didn't matter that he himself wouldn't mind hurting Bobby, and had, in fact, nearly killed him himself as a toddler. But it was his kid; he was allowed. He could do whatever he wanted with his own kid.

He went on ahead of the kids, and stopped right at the beginning of the park. He'd prepared the night before, stealing a pup from someone's yard and putting it in his van. He grinned. If you wanted to snatch a kid, the surest way was with an animal, preferably a young one.

He watched as Bobby reached down for something in the leaves. Bobby suddenly turned around, and threw a ball to Lewis, who missed it, and went chasing after it. Perfect.

Brady got out of his van, holding the puppy. "Hey, Bobby!" he called.

Bobby turned around, and stared at Brady. The man looked vaguely familiar, but he didn't remember him at all. "How… do you know my name?" Bobby asked.

"I'm a friend of your Mom's," he said casually.

"Oh. They took my mom away." Bobby looked very sad.

Brady frowned. "Whadda mean, they took your mom away?"

"Dad said she's sick in the head; it's cause I'm bad."

_Tough luck, you little bastard. _"That's too bad, kid. But hey, you like puppies?"

Bobby's eyes lit up. "Is that your puppy?" .

"Yeah. You wanna hold him?"

"Yes!" He hurried over to the puppy, where Brady placed him in Bobby's arms. Bobby was ecstatic, dropping to the ground immediately with the dog, petting it, laughing as the puppy climbed all over him, licking his face. Suddenly Brady snatched the dog back.

Bobby looked up. "Hey! You said I---" Brady jerked him up hard.

"You said I could hold him..." Bobby said, rubbing his shoulder.

"I did, didn't I? Well, c'mere, look inside my van. I got another puppy in there; they're brothers. You can pick one out and keep it, they need homes. You got a brother, don't you?" He steered Bobby to his van.

"Yeah. My brother is mean."

"He do that to your mouth?"

"Um… no, sir. Fell off my bike."

Suddenly Brady, whose moods could change in an instant, got in his face. **"Don't you lie to me!!** Who did it?"

Bobby jerked back at the sudden anger. "I…don't remember," he said softly. "I hafta go. My friend—"

"Your dad, right? Right?!"

Bobby didn't say anything, frightened now, and Brady calmed down again. "If I was your dad I'd never do that to you. Would you like me to be your dad? Huh? Call me Daddy."

Bobby backed off a little more, but Brady took hold of his collar. "I said, call me** Daddy."**

"You're not my Dad."

Brady had a good grip on Bobby's collar, and Bobby tried to back off some more, but now he couldn't. He looked up at Brady. "Are you tryin' to steal me?"

Taken by surprise, Brady merely said, "Shut up."

But Bobby continued on. "My dad won't care if you steal me. He'll be glad! He said… if he could, he'd pay somebody to steal me. He said then our family would be perfect."

Brady suddenly flashed back to his own father, losing himself momentarily in his childhood. "Get outta here!" he croaked at Bobby. "**Get the fuck out of here!" **He gave Bobby a hard shove, sending him sprawling. "Get the fuck outta here before I change my mind!"

Bobby quickly got up, just as Brady suddenly came back for him . Brady got a hand on Bobby's jacket, but not enough to stop his momentum. Bobby just barely jerked away, nearly running into Lewis, who had just returned, his eyes full of questions.

"C'mon, hurry up!" he yelled to Lewis, and the two boys took off running down the street. People had started to look their way. Brady decided this was not a good time to attract attention. He got in his van and slowly took off.

Brady was furious with Bobby, but mostly at himself. He had to admit, his attempt to kidnap Bobby had been a pretty feeble effort on his part. Then he smiled to himself; he forgot the kid he was dealing with, _his kid,_ was no doubt as crafty as himself. Still… next time, _if_ there was a next time... shit! What was the point of kidnapping a kid who nobody would miss? Apparently it wouldn't affect his mother, who was totally out of it. And his father would probably pay _him_ to take the kid. He was just going to have to find another way to let his aggression out.

* * *

Bobby and Lewis ran till they could hardly breathe. Then both fell to the ground, exhausted, and laid there till they could catch their breath.

"Gosh, Bobby," Lewis said, nearly out of breath. "Was that a 'stranger' ?"

'Yes," Bobby breathed.

"Did you _talk_ to him?" Lewis asked in amazement.

"Yes."

"Bobby! Don't you know you're—"

"Not 'apposed to talk to strangers," Bobby finished. "I know."

"Or get—" Lewis started.

"In cars with strangers."

Lewis stared at Bobby, wondering how Bobby did that. Then he said, "Did that stranger try to take you?"

Bobby wasn't sure how much more he should say. Finally, "He tried, but I'm okay."

"We gotta tell Mom!" Lewis said.

"No!!"

"We gotta, Bobby!"

"NO!" Bobby was dead serious. He turned to Lewis. "If you tell your mom, she'll 'prololly call the police. And the police will tell my dad, and my dad will… " Bobby looked down, ashamed. "My dad will…"

He didn't finish, but he didn't have to. "Don't tell, okay?"

Lewis looked at his friend, and saw the fear and shame in his eyes. He had seen a drunken Frank take a belt to Bobby, or smack him around more than a few times. "Okay, Bobby," he said, and never told a soul.

"You threw the ball way over my head! Again!" Lewis accused, changing the subject.

"Did not!" Bobby said. "You just missed it!"

'You throw too hard." Lewis complained, all the way home.

* * *

When the boys made it back to Lewis' house, the place smelled wonderful, with all the aromas of a typical Thanksgiving. Bobby couldn't remember the last time he'd smelled anything like this.

"C'mon, Bobby, Lewis, it's time to eat," Lewis' mom told them.

Mrs. Rennelle loaded up each boy's plate with everything, turkey, stuffing, gravy, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and just about everything associated with a Thanksgiving dinner.

"Bobby, would you like a drumstick?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Bobby never ate so much in his life; he literally made himself sick. After eating the whole dinner, with seconds on some things, plus pumpkin pie and whipped cream, he ended up with a stomach ache, along with Lewis.

"My stomach hurts sooooo much," Lewis moaned.

"Me, too," Bobby agreed. "I'm stuffed! Just like a turkey!" Both boys held their stomachs and laughed. "But I'm glad I came here and had dinner with you guys."

Lewis' mom laughed with the boys, and his father tousled Bobby's curls. "We're glad you came here, too, Bobby. You're just like a member of the family."

"Yeah," Lewis said. "It's like you're my brother or sumthin."

Bobby smiled. He just wished he could have had a family like this. But for now he was happy just being "like" a member of the family. "And you're like my brother, too, only not so mean."

* * *

That night, lying in bed, a lot of thoughts ran through Bobby's mind. First he thought of his mother. He didn't understand " schiz…schizo…phrenia." And how his being bad makes his mom sick. Even though his mom was different from all the other moms, he loved his mother very much and already missed her terribly.

Then he thought of the man who tried to take him today. Although he had gotten away from the man, he wondered what it would have been like if the man had taken him. Maybe the man lost his little boy or something, and wanted another one. Maybe he would have been nice to him; maybe he would be a good dad who liked him. Maybe he should have let the man take him…

Finally, he thought wistfully about Lewis and his family, and what it would be like to live in their family. He wished he could have a family like that. A Mom who wasn't sick all the time and sometimes hurt him, for no good reason. And a Dad who would come home every night and would look at him and love him. A brother who was nice to him… and regular dinners that they could all eat together, like Lewis' family did. But even with all their faults, he loved his own family very much, and really wouldn't trade. But sometimes, just sometimes, he couldn't help fantasizing that he was a member of that other family. He fell asleep, happily thinking of his Thanksgiving day with Lewis and his family.

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

My Stories.

Hi. I just wanted to tell you that my story will be delayed for a bit because of a recent tragedy in my life. What has happened has left me totally devastated; it is the worst thing I could ever imagine happening. I promise I will continue, and it will have an ending; I have never left a story unfinished. I'm just not sure when this will be. Thanks for your understanding.


	9. Chapter 9

Little Boy Lost

For my beautiful Shawnee.

A/N I am going to attempt writing again. Starting now, after an almost 3 month hiatus, all my stories will be dedicated to my beautiful granddaughter Shawnee, who recently passed. She was the first of my seven grandchildren, and the first of the seven lights of my life. My heart will forever remain broken.

Chapter 9

Since Frances Goren had first been hospitalized just over two weeks ago, Frank had visited his wife exactly once. And he had yet to take their children. Frankie occasionally asked about her, but apparently had other things on his mind. Bobby, on the other hand, asked about her daily, and begged to see her. Everyday Frank became more and more convinced that Bobby was not his son. Frank felt an almost diabolical pleasure in seeing the worry and stress on the face of Frances' little curly haired boy. Since nothing he said or did seemed to have any effect on his wife, about the only way he had of getting back at her was through _her_ son, which wasn't altogether unpleasant.

Bobby looked up at Frank with big brown worried eyes. "Daddy, is Ma better yet?"

And as usual, Frank ignored him.

But Bobby persisted, pulling on Frank's shirt. "Daddy? Daddy, is Mama better? When is she comin' home? Daddy?"

As Frankie stood, watching and smirking, Big Frank turned on Bobby, anger distorting his handsome face. Then his demeanor abruptly changed. "You wanna see your Mom, do you? Ok, I'll take you to see your Mom."

A very surprised Bobby smiled, while Frankie's mouth hung open in shock. _Dad taking Bobby somewhere?_

Frank continued. "Yeah, I'll take you to see your mom. Frankie? You're going, too." Frankie continued to stare at his Dad.

Frankie usually sat in the front when Frances wasn't there, but he elected to sit in the back this time. Bobby jumped at the opportunity to sit in the front with his Dad, and climbed over the seat.

"Get in the back," Frank said.

Disappointment clearly showed on Bobby's face. But he dared not argue with his dad. Reluctantly, he climbed back over the seat, sitting on the opposite side of Frankie, pouting.

"And get that look off your face, or I'll knock it off!" The pout quickly left Bobby's face.

After a while Frankie whispered, "You know where we're going, right?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered. "To see Mom."

"I know _that_," Frankie said. "But do you know where she is?"

Bobby thought for a moment. "Uh, no… "

A devilish grin spread across Frankie's face. "At the crazy house!"

"No she isn't!" Bobby said angrily. "Ma ain't at no crazy house!"

"Then why isn't she home?" Frankie demanded.

"Cause those guys hurt her!"

"She's not hurt; she's crazy, and at the crazy house. Know who else lives at the crazy house?"

"No…" Bobby said, a little unsure now.

"Crazy people, like Mom, who come for you. Sometimes they have knives and stab you and cut you open and eat you!"

Bobby's heart started beating rapidly, and he tried to take a deep breath.

"Sometimes they just tear you apart with their hands, then eat you!"

Bobby didn't want to react to Frankie; already he knew that if Frankie thought he'd got to him he'd never let up. But Frankie knew he had, and kept it up the entire way.

So as much he wanted to see his mother, by the time they arrived at the hospital Bobby had made up his mind that he wasn't going in.

After parking the car, Frank said, "Okay, guys. Out." Frankie eagerly got out of the car, while Bobby didn't move. "Let's go, Bobby."

"I don't wanna," Bobby said softly.

"What?" Frank was doing his best not to lose his patience in public.

"I don't wanna," Bobby repeated, moving further away.

Frank narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you're going, buddy boy. Now get your ass out here now!"

"But… but the crazy people…"

Frank reached in and grabbed Bobby by the arm, yanking him out. "Got news for you, buddy. With _your_ mom, you better get used to crazy. Now let's go."

Frank started walking, knowing that Bobby would follow. Bobby stood there for a moment, rubbing his arm, then quickly ran after his Dad. Catching up with his Dad, he tried to take his hand. Frank shook him off. "Don't," was all he said.

Bobby looked at his dad in confusion, and then hung his head, staring at his shoes. He would just never accept that Daddy didn't love him. The thought also flashed through Frankie's mind that, for reasons he didn't understand, their Dad wanted nothing to do with Bobby. But the thought was gone as quickly as it came.

Frank moved on again, and Frankie caught up with Bobby. Both boys followed their dad in, Bobby walking as slowly as he could get away with. And Frankie continued to tell Bobby lurid tales of crazed monsters and lunatics who existed only to tear small boys apart.

It took a few minutes for Frank to get signed in, and then they all went to Frances' room. As they reached her room, they heard a commotion going on inside the room.

Frank stopped just outside the door. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

One of the orderlies turned, stunned to see someone standing there. "Sir, you'll have to leave. We encountered—"

"Ma!" Bobby ran into the room, shocked to see the other orderly strapping his mother down.

"Bobby! Help me, they're trying to kill me! Frankie, help!" Frankie had come into the room, too, and was also shocked.

Before anyone had a chance to do anything, Frank grabbed his sons and pulled them out of the room. "I want an explanation of this!" Frank demanded. Even as apathetic as Frank normally was, even he was upset. Besides, he always liked a good fight. "I'll speak to your supervisor!"

"Sir," the orderly defended himself. "She is out of control—" In the background, Frances was screaming obscenities and talking pure gibberish.

"We'll see about that," Frank said. He dragged his sons out of the room and down the hall.

Bobby dug his heels in. "But Ma…"

Frank just held on tighter, then looked at him hard. "You listen to me, Bobby. You give me any problems now and you won't sit down for a month! You got that?"

When Bobby didn't answer, Frank barked. "You got that?!"

"Yes," was all Bobby could manage.

Frank stalked angrily down the hall to the elevator; his two sons trying to keep up. Soon they reached the director's office. While Frank took out his anger on the director, Bobby once again tugged at his dad's shirt. "Dad, Daddy! I gotta go to the bafroom."

Frank tried to ignore him, but Bobby kept it up. Frank was getting distracted, and finally said, "Alright. Alright—where is it?" he asked the director.

"Down the hall and to the right," the director told Bobby, who took off running down the hall.

As soon as he turned the corner, Bobby turned back and peeked around the corner. He saw his dad still talking with the director. Trying to remember the exact way, Bobby made his way back to his mother's room, always hyper-vigilant, but even more so while watching carefully for any sign of a crazy person.

Outside the room he heard his mother alternately crying softly and cursing and screaming. He walked into the room and up to the bed, a little frightened. Things were changing so quickly around him and it scared him a little.

"Ma?" he said, staring at the restraints which had already bruised and reddened his mother's delicate wrists.

"Bobby!" Frances cried. "Oh God, Bobby, help me! Please help me!"

"Ma...Mama?" He didn't know what to do.

"Unstrap me, Bobby. Please! Those men—they're evil!"

Bobby kept staring at the straps holding his mother down, while the tears ran down his cheeks, and a million thoughts ran through his head. Including the punishment he would receive if he undid his mother and she did something bad.

"Bobby!" Frances begged. "Undo me! Now, Sweetheart, please!" At Bobby's hesitation, she continued. "Please Sweetheart, I promise I'll just lie here. It hurts…"

Bobby looked at his mom, then at the straps again. And he made his decision.

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

Little Boy Lost Chapter 10

_For my beautiful Shawnee_

Bobby made his decision. Knowing he was in trouble either way, he climbed up on the bed. The restraints were tight, and he had difficulty loosening them.

"Hurry up, Bobby! Before they come back!" Frances said urgently. Bobby tried, but it was slow going. "Do it!" she snarled.

Bobby shot a quick glance at his mother; seeing the look on her face frightened him, making him nervous and his fingers fumbled even more. Finally he got one side done. Frances pushed him aside. "Find my clothes!" she ordered him, and went about releasing the other one herself.

Bobby climbed down from the bed and looked in the closet. No clothes. He quickly checked the very small dresser. Empty. Then he looked back at his mother anxiously. "I… I can't…find them, Ma…."

Frances looked at her youngest son scornfully as she made her way to the closet. "You're worthless, Bobby," she told him, even as she looked in the closet and didn't see her clothes. "Your father is right about you. If Frankie were here…" Glancing nervously around the room, she whirled on Bobby. "I know what it is—you're one of _them_!" She looked fearfully at him.

Bobby never understood who "they" were, but he knew that whoever they were, he wasn't one of them. "No I'm not, Ma! I'm not!"

"No! Get away from me!" she hissed at him.

Bobby started to his mother, to show her he was not one of them, and to hug her and tell her he loved her. But she pushed him away hard, knocking him down, and now started shrieking. "Get away from me! Get away!" She worked her way to the door backwards; once at the door she turned and ran.

"Ma!" Bobby quickly picked himself up off the floor and made it to the door; already she was completely out of sight. And Bobby was scared. This was not the way it was supposed to go. He just wanted to make his mom feel better. He scooted out of the room and disappeared, too, back the way he had come. He knew he was in big trouble.

It didn't take the orderlies and nurses long to find Frances in her hiding place, and she was returned to her room, kicking and screaming the whole way. They re-did the restraints, confused as to how she had gotten out of them in the first place. They finally came to the conclusion that one of the orderlies had somehow managed to screw it up, and they could only pray that nothing came of it.

By this time Bobby made it back to join Frankie and his father, who by now had found out about Frances and had something else to go on about. Frank demanded to see the orderlies who had screwed up. And the hospital director, trying to soothe Frank, agreed.

The two orderlies were brought in, and were now trying to talk their way out of it. But Frank would have none of it. _This might make for a nice little sum of_ _money,_ he thought, if he brought about a lawsuit. He ranted on, making everyone uncomfortable.

Bobby didn't understand all the words that were said, but quickly realized it was about his mother. And that meant him, if they found out.

"What are they talking about, re...relieved… of their duties?" he whispered to Frankie.

"It means they're gonna get fired," Frankie said.

Bobby's spirits fell even more. "Fired? Why?"

"Because they didn't take care of Mom right."

The men were still fighting for their jobs, even tried the compassionate route. "Our kids won't have a Christmas. Please!"

"Let's go!" Frank said, indicating his sons, effectively ending the argument. "I'll be in touch," he told the Director. Frankie started to follow his father, but Bobby held back. "Come on!" Frank said, reaching for Bobby, who clearly was torn. If he admitted this now, after the way his father had reacted, he'd probably get the worst beating of his life. But those men, and their kids… his stomach suddenly started hurting really bad.

Frank grabbed him and marched out of the hospital. Once on the road , imagining a lawsuit, his mood changed. Frankie immediately homed in on this.

"Dad, remember that place I told you about? The one that Jimmy says has hamburgers for fifteen cents?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Well, can we go there? Then you won't have to cook…"

"You don't have to cook beer," Frank told him, chuckling, thinking his joke was really funny.

Frankie scowled. He knew it wasn't really a joke. "Well, can we, Dad? Huh?"

Frank glanced at Frankie, and grinned, the lawsuit still in his thoughts. "Yeah, I guess we can afford fifteen cents." His good mood even extended to Bobby. "What about it, Bobby? You up for a hamburger?"

By this time Bobby's stomach was in knots. He had a horribly guilty conscience about those workers, yet was too afraid of his father to tell him what really happened.

"What about it, Bobby?" Frank repeated.

Even though Bobby couldn't eat if he tried, the last thing he wanted to do was to upset his father's good mood. "Yes," he answered softly.

By the time they got to the restaurant, Bobby's felt sick. Frank escorted them in, and ordered. Frank ordered cheeseburgers with fries and a milkshake for the boys, (one cheeseburger for Bobby, two for Frankie) and four cheeseburgers, fries and a large Coke for himself.

Once at their table, Frank and Frankie dug into their food, really enjoying themselves. Bobby didn't touch his food, his stomach hurt too badly. It didn't take long for Frank to notice.

"Gonna eat, Bobby?"

Frankie stopped, cheeseburger halfway to his mouth. _Uh oh_…

Bobby looked at his father miserably. "Daddy… My belly hurts…"

Frank stared at him. "You little shit. You have to ruin everything, don't you?"

Bobby hung his head, but his father wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Eat."

Again Bobby looked at his dad, his eyes pleading, "My belly hurts," he repeated.

_Don't, Bobby _Frankie thought.

Frank leaned into Bobby, and whispered loudly, "You don't take a bite of that hamburger right now I'm gonna jam it down your damn throat! Eat!"

Bobby brought the hamburger up to his mouth and took a tiny bite, Frank watching him all the way. He took forever chewing it, but finally swallowed it. "Another," Frank ordered.

Bobby repeated his earlier actions, and Frank ordered him to eat some more. Finally Frank tired of the whole thing, and slapped the burger right out of Bobby's hand onto the floor, startling both boys.

"Pick it up!"

Bobby scampered off his chair and quickly picked up the splattered cheeseburger, and sat down again. Frank looked around the small restaurant. If other patrons hadn't been staring at them, he would have made Bobby eat the gooey mess.

He did make Bobby eat all the fries, and drink the milkshake. "Pretty damn bad," Frank complained, loud enough for the other patrons to hear, "when you buy your kid a milkshake and have to force him to drink it. Last time that happens."

Nobody said anything, but a few people just shook their heads.

Bobby was feeling worse by the minute, and an odd looked crossed his face. "Daddy…" Suddenly everything Bobby ate came gushing up and out.

Frank was shocked and mortified, and Frankie moved quickly to avoid any splatter.

"Frankie! Go get some napkins. Hurry up!"

Frankie wrinkled his nose, but started after the napkins. Frank glared at Bobby, who by this point felt so horrible he didn't care. He threw up again.

One of the managers, who'd witnessed the whole thing, quickly came up to Frank. "It's okay, Sir, we'll take care of it."

Frank stared at the guy, but the manager continued. "It happens all the time. Kids are always getting sick, eating too fast, too much… ya know?" He was trying to excuse Bobby's accident, and Frank was only too glad to get out of there.

Without so much as a thank you, Frank barked, "Let's go!" and the Gorens hurried to the exit.

They were almost to the car when Bobby held up. "Daddy…"

Frank turned around just in time to see Bobby throw up again. He shut his eyes, his hands balling into fists as he tried to control his temper. Then he just turned back and continued on to the car. As he sat there waiting for Bobby he imagined himself taking off and just leaving Bobby there. But knowing his luck the kid would somehow find his way home again. So he just sat there with Frankie, seething.

Finally Bobby made it to the car. Anticipating a backhand, he got in on the opposite side of his father. "I'm sorry," Bobby whispered.

Frank turned to him. "You better hope to hell you don't puke in this car." He didn't say anything more, just peeled out of the parking lot, throwing Bobby around in the back seat, and Frankie grabbing for something to hold onto.

The ride home was quiet, no one said a thing; so far Frank had driven the whole way white-knuckled, his face grim. Once Frankie turned around and glared at Bobby, who turned his face away, knowing that not only was the whole night ruined because of him, he had also caused some little kids to lose their Christmas, and that very likely he would pay for it when they got home. He got on his knees on the seat, and just stared out the back window at the stars just now starting to light up the sky. He wondered why everything he did was wrong. He stole a look at Frankie, who was now chatting happily with his Dad. For the first time ever Bobby felt jealousy and resentment towards his brother. Tears welled up in his eyes; not only did he want to be _like_ Frankie, he wanted to _be _Frankie.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

Little Boy Lost Chapter 11

For my beautiful Shawnee

Arriving home Frank immediately went to the couch and got comfortable. "Frankie, put my show on." Frankie scowled, but did as he was told. Without waiting to be told, Bobby, still feeling ill, ran to the refrigerator and took out a beer, returning to the living room and handed it to his dad. Frank took the beer from Bobby; he never said thank you or even bothered to look at him.

Bobby stood and looked at his dad for a minute, hoping he would say something to him. Anything. But Frank continued to stare at the tv. And Bobby went to the room he shared with Frankie. Lying on his bed, he thought of the kids who weren't going to have a Christmas because of him. He was so conflicted; he had to tell his father the truth, but was afraid of what his father would do. Finally, the truth won out, and Bobby knew what he had to do.

Once again he stood near his father. "Daddy?" he said softly. And once again his father ignored him.

Bobby let it all out. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Daddy, those men didn't let Ma loose. I did."

Now he had his father's attention. And Frankie's. Frank turned to him, staring, then sat up. "What did you say?"

Now Bobby was sorry he said anything. "I… said that those men did—"

"I heard you!" The look on Frank's face was incredibility mixed with pure venom. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he bellowed, causing Bobby to shrink back, and even Frankie moved further away.

"Ma said… she said… for me to let her loose…and—"

Frank grabbed him and shook him, then pushed him into the wall. "Your mother is a fucking nut case! Since when did you start doing what you're told? You shouldn't have been there in the first place!" Before Bobby could utter a word, Frank grabbed him and hit him in the mouth, knocking him down again as a frightened Frankie looked on. Frankie ran to his dad, grabbing his arm.

"Dad, don't!" When Frank turned to look at him, Frankie let go and backed away. "Our teacher said you could hurt someone bad, hitting them in the face…" He stood there, fully expecting to be hit himself.

His expectations were fulfilled as Frank backhanded Frankie, too. Frankie had backed off at the last second, so he managed to stay on his feet. Frank looked at Frankie and said, "I wanna tell you something. If I wanted to hurt him bad, he'd be hurt bad." Then he stood there, looking from one to the other, then said to Bobby, who was doing his best not to cry, "You are more friggin' trouble than you're worth. You're fucking worthless, you know that? Get out of my sight. Both of you." He turned and headed to the kitchen, bringing back a six-pack of beer.

Bobby and Frankie both took off immediately to their room, Bobby moving a little slower. He was really hurting. He lay back on his bed, holding his stomach, which felt worse than ever. He thought he was going to throw up again. Frankie sat on the bed next to him.

"Why'd ya tell him, Bobby? Why? You knew what he would do…"

Bobby never answered, just rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. He still held his stomach, the hot tears he wouldn't allow in front of his father now streaming down his cheeks. "It hurts, Frankie," he whispered. Frankie wasn't sure what hurt, Bobby's mouth, his belly, or his feelings. Or all three.

Frankie was angry over being hit, but mostly over their whole general lifestyle. "I hate him," Frankie announced once again. "I wish he was dead."

Bobby turned back to his brother. "No, Frankie. Don't say that! Dad only hits me cause I'm bad…"

"No he doesn't, Bobby. He hits you 'cause he's mean. And drunk."

"And because he doesn't like me," Bobby offered.

"Yeah. That too." Frankie went to his dresser and bent down to his bottom drawer. He moved a few things around, and then straightened, holding a cigarette in his hand. He showed it to Bobby. "Here, look, Bobby, I snuck this out of Dad's pack when he went to the bathroom. I got a couple." He then went to another drawer, and pulled out some matches. He lit the cigarette, and took a long drag. "Want a drag? It'll relax you."

Bobby did feel the need, already enjoying cigarettes just a little too much, thanks to the cigarettes Frankie occasionally stole and the excellent coaching. Frankie usually stole them out of his mom's purse. That being impossible at the moment, he now risked getting them from his dad when he was drunk and didn't notice.

Bobby sat up slowly, still holding his stomach, grimacing all the way. He took the cigarette Frankie offered, and took a drag as Frankie had taught him. It felt so good.

Xxxxx

Bobby lay in bed a long time that night, not able to sleep. He thought about those little kids who would now have a Christmas since he told the truth. He was glad about that. But his mouth and stomach still hurt, and for some reason Frankie's words from earlier entered his mind. He couldn't get the images out of his mind of crazy people, all dressed in hospital gowns like his mother, going after little children and eating them. _Was Mom going to be one of those people now?_ _ A_ _monster?_ _No! Mommy wouldn't be one of those people! Mommy couldn't be one of those. Could she?_

"Frankie…?" He had to ask Frankie, Frankie would know. "Frankie?" He said it a little louder, but Frankie didn't answer. He listened to Frankie's even breathing for a moment and knew he was asleep. And now he was scared. "Frankie?" he tried again.

Bobby pulled the covers over his head and lay there, very still. He finally fell into a very fitful sleep. And the nightmares began.

"_Ma?" Bobby tried to follow his mother out of her hospital room. But already she had disappeared. "Ma?" he called. Just then Bobby caught something out of the corner of his eye, but whatever it was, it was gone. Was it Ma? He turned in the direction of the movement, and quickly turned the corner. He stopped dead in his tracks, horrified. There was a man, with long stringy gray hair in a blood-stained hospital gown. He was holding a screaming child, also with blood-stained clothing. Immediately the man turned to him, grinning with big razor sharp yellow teeth._

_Bobby tried to run, but couldn't move his feet. He was paralyzed with fear. The man's grin grew bigger, and he started moving slowly to Bobby. Bobby squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, hoping the image would disappear. When he opened them again not only was the man still there but only a few feet from him, still holding the other child. Finally Bobby's feet could move, and he took off as fast as he could. But he wasn't fast enough. The man was on him in seconds, swooping him up in his other arm. Bobby struggled with everything he had, but the man's grip only got tighter and the man's leering face was in his own, grinning and snapping his teeth._

_He carried both thrashing children into another room, more like a ward, and threw them each down onto beds. The room was filled with small beds, each with a child in it. Some of the children were crying; some were screaming and some were strangely quiet. All were covered in blood, with huge chunks bitten out of them and missing arms and legs. They were surrounded by people like this man, monsters. Bobby tried to scramble off the bed, but the monster snapped at him and threw him back down, this time placing his wrists in child-size restraints. He screamed and kicked at the monster, and suddenly wailed "MAAAAA! Mama, help me! MAAAAA!" And then, thankfully, his mother appeared. She looked down at him and smiled. Then, amazingly she changed right before his eyes. Her once well cared for hair turned stringy and gray, and her beautiful smile turned into a sneer, with sharp yellow teeth. She reached down and touched his restraints, and mocked him. "Now you know how it feels."_

_The monster next to her pushed her out of his way. "He's mine!" he screamed at her. Then he opened his mouth wide revealing his razor teeth, and leaned down into Bobby's face…._

Bobby shot up in his bed. Somewhere someone was screaming, and a second later he realized it was him.

Frankie was awake now, too. "Shut up!" he hissed. "Dad's gonna come in!'

"Frankie! Mom's a monster! They get kids, and tie them up and eat them!"

"It's just a bad dream, Bobby. Now shut up!"

But it was too late. A moment later a drunk and disheveled Frank came stumbling into their room, flipping the light switch. Frankie immediately pretended to be asleep. "What the hell's going on in here?" he demanded, halfway tripping over a shoe. He picked it up and threw it, hitting the window and cracking it. Bobby ducked out of reflex.

He glared at Bobby. "It was you, wasn't it?" He strode over to Bobby, and before anyone realized it, Frank had Bobby standing on the bed facing the wall. He started unfastening his belt, mumbling something like "inconsiderate little brat."

Bobby trembled against the wall, and turned slowly to face his Dad. "I… I had a bad dream…"

Frank looked at Bobby, groggy, like he didn't understand.

"I won't dream no more, Daddy. Please, I promise!"

Frank stood staring at Bobby for a minute, then putting his face right next to Bobby's, he said, "Stay out of my sight. I don't even want to have to look at you." Once again, in his mind's eye, he was picturing Francis and Mark Ford Brady coupling and producing this bastard child. "I don't want to look at you, I don't want to hear you, I don't want anything to do with you." He turned and lurched out of the room.

Frankie couldn't believe his father said that; he could only attribute it to his father's drunken state of mind. "Bobby, he didn't mean it, he's drinking again…"

His words had no effect on Bobby, who despite everything , still adored his dad. Tears sprang to the boy's eyes, and he dropped down into the bed, covering himself completely, facing the wall. He sobbed as quietly as he could, hoping Frankie couldn't hear. Frank's ugly words to his son hurt far more than any beating ever would. Worse than that, though, was the thought that his mother was crazy. She had to be, she was in the crazy house. He was _pretty_ sure she wouldn't be a monster, but she _was_ crazy, and the knowledge of that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

Little Boy Lost Chapter 12

For my beautiful Shawnee

Frances Goren was having a difficult time of it. Nothing seemed to be working. Every medicine they tried had something wrong with it. Either it didn't work with Frances' system, or the side effects were so bad she did everything possible to avoid taking it. Not that she had a choice. If the nurses wanted the medicine in her, they got the medicine into her. But it didn't come easy. She fought them tooth and nail, literally, biting, scratching and kicking the whole time. Needles to say, she wasn't the most popular patient, and paid for it in subtle ways, ways that were never recorded and no one ever knew about.

XXXX

Back at the Goren home, Christmas was coming. Frank was never a big fan of Christmas, and especially buying Christmas gifts. He always left that up to Frances. And although the boys were worried about their mom, they also thought about Christmas. After all, they _were_ little boys.

Frankie brought it up first. "Dad, is Mom gonna be here for Christmas?"

Frank sighed. "I doubt it. Your mother isn't doing very well."

"How come?" Bobby asked softly.

"Because she doesn't cooperate, doesn't take her pills and just makes things hard on everyone! Just like you," he threw at Bobby. Bobby lowered his eyes, once more sorry he'd said anything at all. "At least we know where you get it," Frank continued. "You're just like her. Only worse. Hah! I can imagine how you're gonna turn out."

"So what about Christmas?" Frankie pressed.

"What about it?"

"Are we gonna have a Christmas?"

"No, don't think so, Buddy. Your mother takes care of that. Maybe later when she gets home," he lied. "And we don't know when that will be, now, do we?"

Frankie and Bobby knew he was lying about having a Christmas later, and couldn't keep the disappointment off their faces, which pissed Frank off.

"What? Do you think I'm fucking made of money? And you," he addressed Bobby, "in case you don't know, it's me who's been buying Christmas all these years. There is no Santa Claus. You got that?"

"I know," Bobby said. "You already told me that, when I was little."

"Well, remember it."

"Yeah," Frankie said, glaring at his dad, then turned for his room. Bobby followed him.

Frankie was angry. "He's a bastard!" he told Bobby. "He could get us something for Christmas if he wanted to. He just don't want to."

"But he's not made of money," Bobby said, defending his dad. "He said that."

"Shut up, Bobby! Someday you're gonna know just how Dad is, and you're not going to like him anymore."

"I will, too!"

"Yeah? Just you wait. On Christmas, we won't have no presents, but Dad will somehow get money to go to the track and be out with a pretty lady after that."

Bobby was confused. "Why does Daddy do that? Mom's pretty…"

Frankie shrugged. "I don't know. That's just Dad. That's the way he is."

"Oh."

XXXX

The weeks before Christmas dragged on. All around them, people were getting ready for Christmas. At school, Christmas pageants were planned, room mothers were getting ready for Christmas parties. Neighborhood houses were decorated; everyone seemed to be in a festive mood. Everyone but the Gorens.

Frankie and Bobby watched all this going on around them. Frankie was angry, Bobby was sad. At only seven years old, Bobby still needed and missed his mother. Although he did most things on his own anyway, it was still comforting to have his mother around.

Bobby was also very lonely. Frank made a point of staying away as much as possible, and usually dragged himself in very late at night, if at all. Frankie did his best to get himself and Bobby up and off to school, but then spent all his time at his friends' houses, until late in the evening. Bobby was alone in the house nearly all of the time. For the most part, his meals consisted of cereal and milk or peanut butter and jelly. That didn't really bother him, he liked both, and it made for easy cleanup, which in turn kept him out of trouble for making a mess. The tv became his best friend, it kept him interested and at least hearing human voices. And being Bobby, he managed to pick up some interesting info from everything he watched. But rarely did he hit the books. There was no one to push him to study or do homework, and it was reflected in his grades, which steadily went down. He usually fell asleep on the floor in front of the tv, and Frankie would make him go bed when he got home.

School, for Bobby, was becoming difficult. He'd been getting more than his share of slaps from his teacher, and he'd been getting in fights lately, something out of character for him. He never did his homework. His clothes weren't in the best of shape. He was supposed to be wearing a clean white shirt everyday, a tie, and black slacks. But his shirts weren't clean or pressed, and sometimes even Bobby wasn't clean, often forgetting to wash his face before school.

On the first report card day, Father McKayee passed out report cards. He stood at the head of the class, scanning each card before handing it to the child, as the teacher (nun) in each class looked on.

When he got to Bobby's he frowned. From IQ tests given last year, he knew Bobby was highly intelligent. But his report card did not reflect that. He looked at the grades. Religion- C-, _totally_ unacceptable, this was a Catholic school after all. Language Arts- D. Math- C. Reading- A, his only good grade. Handwriting, F. F? How did a kid get an F in handwriting? And his social skills were lacking, check marks in following directions, paying attention, getting along with others, and doing homework. Knowing what this child was capable of, Father McKayee was furious, and gave Bobby detention for a week, with instructions to work on these issues, or else.

On one particular day, Sister Anne Marie decided she had had enough, especially after Bobby refused to participate in the gift exchange for the party (knowing his dad wouldn't spring for a gift.)

"Robert."

Bobby stood up when addressed, as he was supposed to. "Yes, Sister?"

"May I ask why you don't wish to participate in the gift exchange?"

"Um, because… because…"

"You will address me by my title."

"Yes, Sister Anne," Bobby said in his soft voice.

"Now why don't you wish to participate in the gift exchange?"

"Sister Anne, I… I just don't want nothin'."

"You don't want _anything_."

"Yes, Sister Anne, I don't want anything."

"And why not?"

There was some snickering and whispering in the back of the room, diverting Sister Anne's attention.

"Thomas, would you mind sharing with the rest of the class?"

Thomas also stood up, and didn't hesitate to share. "I said, Bobby's mom is in the crazy house, and his dad won't buy him nothing." All the kids laughed, and Bobby turned a bright red.

"She is not!" he yelled at Thomas.

"Is, too!" Thomas shouted back.

In a second Bobby was on him, pounding away, Thomas pounding back, and Sister Anne was on them both. She pulled them apart.

"Thomas! Robert! That is enough! Both of you go to Father McKayee's office. See what he has to say about all of this. Now!"

Reluctantly both boys walked slowly to the priest's office, each one blaming the other, shoving each other along the way. Father McKayee took one look at their beat up faces, and promptly slapped each of them twice and gave them each a week's detention. Bobby was now back logged on detention. Thomas started crying and Father McKayee knew he'd had enough and sent him back to class. Bobby stood there defiantly, now ready to take on the world.

"Robert, what is going on with you?" For a long while Bobby refused to speak. "I asked you a question, Robert," he said, forcing Bobby to look at him, and he saw the pain in the small boy's dark eyes. But he still needed to maintain discipline and control, so he didn't let up on him. He reached for a switch. "I'm going to ask you just one more time…"

If he expected Bobby to cower in front of him, he was sadly mistaken. In fact, Bobby's reaction surprised him.

"I don't care if you hit me! It doesn't even hurt no more! I don't care about anything!"

Father McKayee stared at him for a moment, shocked. He grabbed Bobby by the back of his neck, angrily forcing him over a desk, and raised the switch. Bobby never even struggled, and the priest put the switch down without hitting him once.

"Robert… Bobby… talk to me. Tell me what is going on with you."

Bobby, scrunching his eyes while waiting to be hit, now slowly opened them. The priest stood him up, and just waited.

Bobby was very surprised, this had never happened before. Usually when someone wanted to hit him, they did. He looked at Father McKayee, and saw nothing but kindness in the priest's eyes. And it was the unexpected kindness that got to him.

He finally broke down and told him some of the things that were going on. He told him about his mother's illness, and their lack of money. He didn't tell him about the neglect and abuse he suffered at the hands of his parents. That was just too shameful.

At the end of his story, Father McKayee offered him a small solution. In exchange for Bobby's promise to stop fighting, he would provide Bobby with a gift for the party gift exchange so Bobby would not be embarrassed. Bobby readily agreed, totally surprised that anyone would do this for him.

Father McKayee wasn't naïve enough to believe this would permanently stop Bobby's fighting (he had an idea this might be a long time ordeal), he was just glad to put a temporary end to it. And the look on Bobby's face made it all worthwhile.

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 13

For my beautiful Shawnee

Bobby was still not doing well in school, but had improved slightly, under the guidance of Father McKayee. He spoke with Bobby's teacher, Sister Anne Marie, and together they decided that if Bobby would just do his homework at night, then at least he wouldn't fail. Both were still very disappointed that a boy with Bobby's obvious intelligence could do so poorly in school.

At home, Bobby and Frankie weren't looking all that forward to Christmas. Just the opposite. This Christmas would be unlike any other. Mom wouldn't be there, and for what it was worth, it was Mom who was the heart of their Christmas, Mom who really made their Christmas.

Frankie asked for a few toys for Christmas. Frank appeared to listen, but didn't say much. Bobby never asked for anything.

The night before Christmas, Bobby still had hopes of at least hanging his stocking. Frank pretty much shot that down, too. "Hang all the stockings you want," he muttered. Frankie looked at Bobby and frowned.

"Forget it!" he said angrily, and turned to go to his room.

But Bobby would not be deterred. "No, Frankie," he said, running after him, catching him by his sleeve. "Let's just hang 'em, okay?" The pleading look in his eyes convinced Frankie.

"Okay," he sighed, "go get the stockings." Bobby ran off to find the stockings.

Shortly after, the boys hung their stockings. Frank ignored them, continuing to watch TV. A few minutes later, they went off to bed. "Merry Christmas Eve, Daddy!" Bobby called.

"Yeah."

In their bedroom, laying in his bed, Bobby said, "G'night, Frankie. Merry Christmas Eve."

"You, too, Bobby." He turned out their light.

After a few minutes of lying in the dark Bobby said, "Frankie, do you think Mom's gonna have a Merry Christmas?"

"Yeah, she'll be okay."

"But she's gonna be all alone… on Christmas…"

Frankie felt bad, too. He didn't get why Frank wouldn't take them to see their mom on Christmas. So he had no answer for his little brother. "Just go to sleep, Bobby."

Bobby tried, but it just didn't happen. All his recent memories of his mom were of her tied to a bed in a hospital. And that would be her Christmas.

Xxxxx

Christmas morning found all the Gorens sleeping in late. The boys, very disappointed about Christmas, just wanted to sleep the day away, and Frank was sleeping away a night of drinking. So it took awhile before anyone heard the door.

Finally the banging got through, and the boys trudged to the door, followed by a groggy Frank.

"Get outa the way," Frank said, pushing the boys away, and jerking open the door. "Whadda ya—" Frank stopped in mid-sentence, staring at Rose and Joseph.

"Gramma! Grampa!" both boys shouted. Gramma and Grampa grabbed the boys into a huge hug.

Finally Grampa looked at Frank and said, "Are you going to invite us in, or what?"

"Huh? What?" Frank started. "Oh, yeah, come in." He stepped out of the way, as Rose and Frank came through.

"Merry Christmas, Gramma!" Bobby said happily. "Merry Christmas, Grampa!"

Gramma couldn't help it, she hugged Bobby again. "Merry Christmas, Bobby!" Grampa ruffled his curls, then Frankie's.

Grampa looked around the bare room. "Frank? Where's your tree?"

"Uh, we're going to have Christmas… later, when Frances comes home."

_Yeah, right_, Grampa thought. "Well, we thought you might want to do that, so we decided we'd bring the boys a little Christmas, you know, to tide them over till then."

Frank just stared, still a little in shock. "Uh…What?"

Grampa looked at the boys. "Go get dressed, boys, you can help."

Frankie and Bobby were excited. They had no idea what was happening, but if Gramma and Grampa liked it, it had to be good.

Soon the boys were back, all dressed and ready for anything. Grampa was carrying a big roasting pan with something in it. Bobby's eyes grew wide.

"Is that a big 'ol turkey?" he asked.

"Yes, it is," Gramma said. "We're going to have a big Christmas dinner today."

Bobby's dark eyes lit up. He hadn't had a real home cooked dinner in a long time, not at his house anyway.

As Gramma started the dinner preparations, Grampa went out to his car again. Both boys followed, and helped bring in a big box; both were very curious.

"What is it, Grampa?" Frankie asked.

"You'll see," Grampa answered, opening the box, and taking out some skinny silver poles.

Finally Frankie said, "It's a tree."

"A _Christmas_ tree?" Bobby asked incredously.

"Yep," Grampa said. "A Christmas tree. I couldn't find a real tree this late in the game, so I stopped at a store and got this."

"It's the latest thing," Gramma said, looking in from the kitchen. "When your mom gets home, she'll love it."

"Now are you boys going to stand there, or are you going to help me put this thing together?" Grampa asked.

Both boys jumped at the chance to help Grampa with the tree. While they were doing that, Gramma got the turkey going and then joined them in the living room. After the tree was together, she brought out the ornaments she had specially picked out. Just as they were finishing, Grampa brought out one more thing. "The final touch," he said, plugging it in. And before their eyes, the tree was changed into a color-changing wonder.

Frank scoffed.

Frankie said, "It looks kinda cool."

Bobby looked at it in awe. "Wow, it's like a robot tree! I like it!" He ran over to hug Gramma and Grampa again. They both laughed, and Grampa said, "Not done yet."

He went out to the car and came in with a few brightly wrapped boxes. The boys stared for a moment and Gramma said, "They're for you, boys. Go on."

Frankie ran over to the gifts, and Bobby followed, just a little bit shy.

Frankie tore open a package with his name on it. Then he crowed, "Oh, boy! A Johnny-Seven gun! Whoo Hooo!" He picked the gun up, aimed at Bobby, and shot, hitting him in the head.

"Whoa, Frankie!" Grampa said, "Be careful, you almost took your brother's eye out with that."

Frankie just grinned. "Just one more time," he said, before anyone could stop him and shot at Bobby again. This time Bobby was ready and ducked.

Gramma and Grampa looked at each other, wondering if they'd made a mistake. "Frankie, I mean it. Don't shoot it at Bobby or I'll take it away."

Frankie made a sulky face, but agreed.

"Okay, Bobby, now you," Gramma encouraged.

Bobby opened a package with snowmen wrapping, with his name in glitter. "Oh, boy!" Bobby said excitedly. "Just what I wanted!" He held up the package containing the Tommy Burst Detective Set. It had a submachine gun, a revolver, a shoulder holster and a badge.

There were a few more gifts, including a Tonka truck and a Godzilla action figure. And even a small gift for Frank.

Frank was a little uncomfortable, but he took it. Both boys watched as Frank opened his present, which turned out to be a very nice watch.

"Thank you," he said, feeling a little guilty. "I'll…we'll have something for you when Frances gets out, when we have our other Christmas."

Wanting the day to be pleasant, and not wanting to embarrass Frank, Joseph said, "That's fine, Frank."

Then Bobby remembered something. "The stockings," he said to Frankie, running to get his.

"There's not gonna be anything in them. I don't know why—" he stopped when he saw the bulging stocking in Bobby's hand, and went to get his own. Bobby sat down on the floor, and started taking out the items in the stocking. It contained all the stuff Bobby loved—the usual apple, orange and banana, some chocolate Christmas candy and a big candy cane. It also contained some of those Hot Wheels Bobby had been wanting, and more than a few new army men. And a new toothbrush. Bobby was very surprised and happy. But he didn't know who to thank. He never saw Gramma or Grampa fill the stockings. And he didn't think his Dad would… but maybe? So he looked at everyone and said softly, "Thank you."

Sometime later, their Christmas dinner was ready. They had turkey, dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes and candied yams, corn, and Gramma's coleslaw, and pumpkin and pecan pies with lots of whipped cream for dessert.

The dinner went very well, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, even Frank, who laughed and talked with everyone. And they all ate till they were stuffed and could barely move.

Bobby sat for a few moments and just observed. This was what he always wanted, his dad and grandparents talking and laughing, liking each other. His dad was talking to him and _wasn't_ drinking, or being mean. Bobby couldn't ever remember this happening before, and it was nice. This was the best Christmas ever, with the exception of one thing—his mother wasn't there. But Daddy had promised them they would have another Christmas when she came home. And Bobby just knew that when his mother did come home, she would be all better, and never have to go back to that terrible place again. And they would be a real family, a happy family, just like the one Lewis had. For the first time in a long time, Bobby felt happy and hopeful.

tbc


End file.
